


Mountain Flowers

by Kuro_Ko



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuro_Ko/pseuds/Kuro_Ko
Summary: In a way, it was the best that Marianne used to hide her smile behind her hands whenever Hilda made her giggle, if not, she may have kissed her right there outside in the open.****Looking at Hilda’s shoulders while she trained, bare and powerful, muscles sharply defined and sweat pouring down, leaving a trail in the arena’s sand that managed to stick to Hilda’s skin, was a sin. Or so Marianne believed. It had to. Such a view had to be preserved only for the worthy.Yet Marianne considered herself a sinner.ORMarianne and Hilda have feelings for each other, but it's difficult to act on them when war is upon them.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	Mountain Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get Marihilda out of my head, it's one of my favorite pairings in the fandom and I... just want them all to be happy. What are your favorite pairings?
> 
> I have the great honor and joy to be a part of the Fódlan Olympics project! So many talented writers have gathered to deliver a wonderful piece of work and I'm just ecstatic to be a part of it! You can follow the project through the twitter account: @Fodlan_Olympics
> 
> I'll be participating in the Edeleth Big Bang project as well (and it's so amazing, you can find the twitter for that here @BbEdeleth), I'm actually beyond thrilled for all these events going on! But it also means that I may be late for my usual updates, bear with me as something amazing is being created with so many talented people!
> 
> You can also find me around in twitter @KuroKR_
> 
> Big shoutout to Sunny (Tumblr slothday) who again betaread this oneshot and just made it better!

In a way, it was the best that Marianne used to hide her smile behind her hands whenever Hilda made her giggle, if not, she may have kissed her right there outside in the open.

Hilda wished for it, of course, with every single fiber of her being she longed for it, daydreaming about kissing Marianne when she giggled, and her shoulders, usually hunched as if the world was always pressing her down, shook in her laughing fit, free.

Hilda allowed herself to be swept away by those sweet dreams of a long distant future, despite she had to be in the present, where a war was being waged and she had responsibilities she never worked for.

But in the gentle afternoon’s sun when winter was turning to spring, she dared to dream of it. Marianne was fond of long, lazy walks from the dorms to the stables, stopping by the fishing pond and the greenhouse. In those moments she’d smile, her demeanor completely changed, even softer by the kind light that defined her delicate features. Hilda could lose herself in Marianne’s eyes, not quite hazel, not quite gray.

She’d stay up at night, after biding her goodnight, thinking about how the light played with them, tugging at her heartstrings with no mercy. She could craft hundreds of masterful pieces, necklaces, bracelets, earrings.

She could spend years dedicated to them and she would still be no match to the beauty hidden behind those lovely eyes.

As such, she followed Marianne through her daily walks, she visited with her good old Dorte, who was in no shape to be fighting but remained in the stables as Marianne’s cherished friend. She listened to the woman she loved talking about almost anything, her knowledge greatly different from hers. Hilda would listen to her just paying attention as to how her voice was a calm tide, the ocean singing at night when the moon was hidden and its waves were merciful and lazy, barely reaching the shore in their ceaseless dance. She’d follow the holy knight around, just to be granted some of the light that she had inside her. The light Marianne seemed oblivious to and that Hilda could see just in glimpses when she let go of the fears that held her prisoner and shone in a smile that made Hilda believe in the goddess more than any old story or fable written down in dusty books.

Marianne would talk about flowers, plants, where they'd grow, how to take proper care of them, the meaning behind each of the delicate patterns that was to be found in the garden. The stories their ancestors had seen written in each leaf, how they had told them in song and art. She'd smile upon the greenhouse keeper and let herself be framed by a lush green and red and blue and pale yellow by Hida's dumbfounded sight. 

Hilda had asked Ignatz how much it would cost her to commission a painting, discreetly.

Not as if anything could compare to the real Marianne, but it'd be nice to have something of her when they were apart.

Hilda would've liked to have something of her in those five years they were apart. Something other than the mountain breeze, the flowers that grew wild and shy in the fields of Goneril, the sun, and the moon that were never late for their eternal journey across the sky. Every single beauty in nature that reminded her of the lonely heiress of Margraviate of Edmund territory.

And now with the continent thrown into chaos, with war waging around them and disturbing news taking hold in every conversation, she used those walks as a way to keep her head above the water.

Marianne would stop by the market to greet the gatekeeper there, she had come a long way since her Academy days, when her desire to hide from the world and just disappear, never remembered by a world that wasn’t ready to appreciate her fully, dominated her thoughts. Now she wasn’t exactly outgoing, but she’d make sure to properly greet the people in her way, she had learned to say “thank you” rather than “I’m sorry”.

And her ‘thank you’s swelled Hilda’s heart to the point that her fingertips tingled and her face blushed. She was always quick to change the subject, or tease Marianne to divert the attention from herself.

Those were, as well, moments she intended to treasure closer to her chest than gold or silver.

They’d always end up in the stables. The pegasi and the horses used to her presence, pushing Marianne in a friendly manner with their stouts soft and gentle, muffling her hair as they breathed in her ears and looked for the treats she always kept for them. And then, oh, and then, Marianne would blossom. Her braids disheveled, her hands petting their noses, her smile bright and clear.

The second sun rising in her sky.

Yes, Hilda was aware of how in love she was.

She never truly realized she was falling for Marianne, never expected it. It had been a surprise to just look at her, a morning before the war had started, before their childhood came to a halt in such a sudden manner, when she felt the jab at her side and the throb of her heart.

By then it had already been too late.

Had it ever been too early?

She didn’t think so.

Hilda was smaller than Marianne, by almost ten centimeters. It was enough to notice it standing side by side. It was enough to make their bodies never be leveled, her hand never grazing hers when they walked together. Her opportunities were limited by such a small fact between them.

“Oh, Hilda, can you get the saddles…?” 

But that didn’t change the fact that she was stronger than Marianne, by far.

“These ones? You know I’m a delicate flower, Mari! I guess I can get them for you since you asked nicely…”  _ and you’re so beautiful I could never say no to you. _

Marianne would smile sheepishly, thanking her as Hilda laid them out for her, so she could maintain them, even if that wasn't her task to do. Somedays, Hilda would spend the afternoon with her, listening to Marianne's soothing voice and learning about things she didn't care about but made the other one happy.

Sometimes she'd be requested by the Professor, Claude, or other greater power for her insight and to answer for the responsibilities that had been bestowed upon her.

Those were the worst days.

Yet she bore with them, she did as she was asked to, she actually worked and allowed people to expect things from her. Because even if she wasn't comfortable believing in herself, she tried to be better just for seeing that little smile once more.

"Hilda… do you think..." Her hands stopped her long brushes over Dorte's neck. Hilda had been just watching her, taking in how dedicated and delicately she tended to her old friend, sitting in a bale of hay with her chin in her hands. Hilda waited a little longer, coaxing Marianne to continue with her silence. "Do you think it's ok for me to wish for a better life after the end of this war?"

Hilda blinked, perplexed.

"That's the whole point, Mari! You heard old Claude, we'll be bringing a revolution to Fódlan once the war is dealt with. And then I won't have to work that much, I'll spend my days working in my craft and making my brother feel guilty about everything I had to go through so he does things for me." Hilda got to her feet, walking to Marianne with her hands behind her back and a smile in her face. The woman was still turned away from her, but she could tell the serious look in her face and something heavy and bitter settled in her belly. "Why do you ask such a thing, Mari?" Suddenly, she was uneasy.

She was scared.

Was this about Blutgang? About the beast they had taken care of to clean Marianne's good name?

She had been so reluctant to tell her the truth that, when finally did, the pieces of the puzzle had fit so perfectly that Hilda was silent for a second or two. Enough to see the sadness in Marianne's eyes.

And Hilda's rage had soared through the ceiling and made her whole body tense, a growl that could've been born from her throat if she wasn't aware enough to control it.

How ridiculous, Marianne a beast. Marianne whose best friend was a horse. Marianne who had dedicated her studies and life to perfect her healing abilities and her faith magic. Marianne who had spent her free time either in the stables or at the cathedral praying to a goddess for a world that had been so cruel and unfair to her.

The scholar had been lucky that it was the Professor who stood up to him.

Real lucky.

"I… I just never thought that much about the future, you know? I always believed that I'd be reunited with the goddess sooner than later..." Her hands let go of Dorte's warm fur, her voice trailing off into a distance where Hilda wouldn't be able to reach for her.

"But now the war is tilting in our favor and you started to realize what a beautiful, amazing person you are?"

"Hilda..."

"Thank the Professor, not me! They're the ones winning the war." Hilda smiled, giving herself courage to reach out and grab Marianne's shoulder lightly. "We'll be free soon, this will be over and you'll be able to choose whatever you want for life. I'm sure they'll let you take Dorte, too. He'll never be happy if you aren't around..." Marianne's shoulder was stiff under her hand, warm and solid. She was there and she could still reach out to her.

She was there, and there was still a slim possibility for her to let Hilda in her life.

And Hilda clung to that possibility with her very life.

"I… thank you, I suppose he's rather fond of me now." Marianne giggled,  _ what a beautiful sound,  _ and rested her own hand over the one Hilda had in her shoulder. They shared that silence for a second or two, heavy with meaning and implications they were not ready to just say out loud. "I think I'd like to go back to Edmund, there's still so much to see out in the world and I should start from my own home. I… I pray to the goddess she'll allow me to fulfill that dream."

"I'm sure she can see to that."

"And… And I hope you'll consider visiting me or accompanying me, Hilda… old Dorte wouldn't be up to the trip. It'd be lonely to travel alone..." Marianne was still facing away from her. Hilda realized it was a good thing, she could feel her blush climbing through her chest, to her neck and her ears.

The young knight squeezed her hand slightly, however, as to make sure she was still there with her.

If that was the case, then Marianne didn't need to pray to the goddess, she just needed to ask Hilda and she'd break the heavens in two to see that come to fruition.

"I'd love to."

* * *

Looking at Hilda’s shoulders while she trained, bare and powerful, muscles sharply defined and sweat pouring down, leaving a trail in the arena’s sand that managed to stick to Hilda’s skin, was a sin. Or so Marianne believed. It had to. Such a view had to be preserved only for the worthy.

Yet Marianne considered herself a sinner.

She had felt that way for so long that it was difficult to think herself outside of those lines. Yet there she was, listening to the Professor calm, clear instructions, trying to hold a sword that resembled Blutgang and failing at keeping her attention in her training.

Hilda's powerful swings cut the air, making it vibrate and crack as if a whip had been unleashed.

Byleth disarmed her, throwing her sword into the arena with an expression that seemed blank but hid understanding in their pale green eyes.

"Let's try again."

"Right."

Blutgang was an advantage, that was for sure. A hero's relic always was. A weapon tailored to her crest, a curse transformed into a blessing. In a way the fact of wielding the sword and accepting its nature it was healing for her.

But it didn’t mean it was easier.

It certainly wasn't when she was training at the same time Hilda was there, swinging a training weapon with ease and showing the world the extent of her muscles.

She brandished the sword, waiting for the Professor's movement. If she was skilled enough as to keep her grip in the handle she’d consider it a win. Byleth was thoughtful in their movements, never hurting her, overall they were patient and kind to her.

They had been the first light of hope she had seen in her life.

Followed by the Goldeen Deer, all her classmates in one way or another had taken their time to get to know her, to talk to her. Even if she infuriated them once in a while as Leonie, or if they tried so hard that were all over the top as Raphael. They had all made an effort.

Suddenly, Marianne had realized she was worth an effort for them.

Hilda had made more than that.

She had taken her hand every day, smiling at her as she taught her new things, as they talked about little things, as they walked together in a year she thought it’d be endless and flew by among missions, battles, self-discovery, and friendship.

_ And something more. _

Marianne wasn’t blind to her own feelings. She had never been. She was painfully aware of how acute her self-deprecation and low self-esteem were. At nights, in the darkness of her room, she’d summon her crest and would despise it.

She’d despise herself in the process.

But Hilda was always there, smiling when she made a mistake, taking over her when she needed help. Her grin was so lovely when she asked for pastries in exchange for all the trouble she had caused her.

She had told Hilda she envied her for how great she was.

She had lied.

She craved for her.

She longed for her.

They were friends, and that would suffice for now. It had to, she wasn’t willing to lose her too in the middle of the war but…

She parried the training sword and received an approbatory nod from the Professor.

Marianne hadn't elevated her prayers for her feelings, the goddess would be understanding she was sure. But it wasn't about getting divine help, but sailing through the treacherous waters of her own turbulent wishes, her world upside down as she was more and more comfortable with who she was.

With the beast inside her, that turned out to be a gentle one.

But after sunset, when the world lost its limits and the shades and colors mixed themselves in a dance impossible to tell apart, the boundaries of their friendship had mixed and transformed as well.

And it confused her.

And it fueled her.

Hilda would retain her, she’d ask her to accompany her just a minute longer, just a second more.

They’d wait in the hallway of the dorms they used to call home as teenagers, now adults, hands locked and words incomplete. Marianne would give herself the pleasure to run her thumbs over Hilda’s strong hands, mumbling about the most trivial things. They’d wait for the words neither of them had the courage to muster.

“Mari! You were here!” Hilda waved at her, jogging with the axe in her shoulder, her face covered in sweat and out of breath.

Something heavy and hot grabbed a hold of her belly.

She knew it, she was in love with her friend, and there was no turning back from such realization.

She had changed so much, sometimes out of her own volition, sometimes out of the desire to be more for her. In a way, her love for Hilda had already shaped her into a better person.

Could she even ask for more?

Could she dare to reach out for more?

“Hilda.” Marianne looked at Byleth, who just raised an eyebrow and nodded, cutting their training short. She fumbled with the training sword, trying to get it right in her hip before the other woman arrived. She was still trying when Hilda looked fondly at her, unable to hide how endearing the gesture looked to her.

“Still clumsy Marianne, even after all these years…”

“Ah, yes, I thank you for bearing it with me.”

“You silly! I could never be mad at you, not when you look so cute.” Hilda set the axe in the ground and used it to lean over it, her chin was crossed by the sweat that was born from her temples and hair, she could see the drops falling free.

Something clenched in her chest, demanding to be noticed.

“I’ll get you pastries still.”

“And I’ll have some tea.” Hilda winked at her, her smile was out of this world. Sometimes, when she prayed, Marianne thought that the goddess had to have the same kind of smile.

“It’s a date, then…”

There was a heartbeat before realization hit her, a moment where she listened to her words again and a blush worked its way to her cheeks.

“Oh, Mari! I never thought you’d be so straightforward with this!” Hilda laughed, straightening up as she did, her hands still on her axe, taking every single word in stride.

“No… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to...”

“Just have some more pastries for me, sounds good? All this swinging around is gonna starve me to death! And you’ve done such good work already healing my wounds…”

They kept talking, bantering some would say, in the training arena. Oblivious to what was so clear to everybody else.

Leonie had groaned out loud when she saw them chatting like that, Ignatz had an apologetic smile and Claude couldn’t stop laughing.

Oblivious to what was so clear to everybody else, but them.

* * *

Hilda Valentine Goneril was no coward. She had stood and won where even her acclaimed brother, Holst Goneril, had lost. She soared the sky on her wyvern, her axe a death omen to her enemies, her strength a shield and a weapon that broke through her friends and country's enemies with no hesitation.

And yet…

And yet.

Every time she saw Marianne von Edmund something  _ wrenched  _ inside her. Something dropped from her throat to her belly and her knees weren't as sure as they used to be and her voice was a traitor and her words weren't to be trusted.

She knew the feeling, she knew what it meant, what it was. It didn't make it any easier for her.

She had lied to herself before, she had told herself that she'd have more chances. There would always be next time, a second chance to get her truth across, to come clean and be true to her feelings.

Marianne would understand, she always did. Sweet, beautiful, kind Marianne.

_ If she just knew what she does to me… _

But time wasn’t forgiving, it moved forward relentlessly and it mocked her at every missed chance. Hilda felt anxious when she thought about it. They were at war, any day could be the last, any goodbye, the farewell that was never planned, any caress the last memory to hold close.

She had no time to be doubtful

And yet…

She was.

She, who would throw herself into battle opening a path for Claude, who would defend a stronghold by herself, who would dive through countless arrows to bring her foes to their knees.

She was.

Marianne von Edmund was a sight to behold atop of her horse, in her holy knight armor, with a hero’s relic at her hip.

It was a sight that chased her at night, haunting her, knowing that the woman was just in the other room.

Knowing, in a way or another, that she was willing to open her arms and let her just take refuge and solace in them.

She had done it after Enbarr, she had spent a night in them, swearing to never let go of her again, never let her get out of her sight, out there in the dangerous world that had already hurt her so much just for being. Hilda had held her, grabbing her shoulders tight and burying her face in her chest.

Swearing to look after her with her life if needed.

Her love was a weeping wound that refused to heal.

The memory of those who she called classmates, friends, partners, allies, dead on the palace’s floor was too fresh, too vivid, too painful.

Marianne hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t pronounced words, she had wrapped her up and surrounded her with her warmth, with her kindness, with her light as a blanket that knew no beginning and no end.

A world for them, and them alone, where to heal, where to take refuge.

Where to love without asking themselves if it was worth it. If that double edge blade was worth wielding.

And now… and now they were at the edge of dawn. The last battle to fight, the last enemy to slain.

The last obstacle to overcome.

Hilda bit her bottom lip. She had missed all her previous chances.

All of them.

Marianne would be far away from her, her support role far away from the front-line. Far away from Hilda’s reach, in a place where her voice wouldn’t reach her.

Her eyes wouldn’t see her.

Just her thoughts would paint her in the open eye of her mind, always vigilant. Always longing.

She looked at Marianne, still visible, beautiful, strong, brave.

Her chest ached with love and pride.

“Hilda.” Claude called her, looking at her from his wyvern, his eyes saying more than his words.

“Claude…”

“Go. We still have time.” She needed no more coaxing. Her wyvern was in the air already, heavy wings carrying her over the troops and her friends, eying her, toward the holy knight that would save their lives time and time again. Never failing to answer when her name was called. The soldiers around her opened a clearance when they realized how her flight was a bee-line toward her. Marianne tightened the grip in her reigns, her horse answering each movement in perfect sync.

“Hilda?” Her landing was heavy, but she was next to her, finally taller than the knight even atop of her mount. Her eyes wide, her hair disheveled by the wind gusts, her mouth slightly open.

This was her last chance.

“Marianne, I’m so sorry, I…”  _ Come on, just say it, damn it.  _ “When this is over, can I kiss you?” She asked, leaning forward, not enough as to reach her. Marianne was still out of her reach, dumbfounded and puzzled. “Please…” She needed to leave, she needed to leave now.

Her heart was hammering her chest, her eyes a silent plea, her hand extended trying to reach her.

Marianne spurred her horse and grabbed her hand, squeezing her tight, a smile as the ones she sported when they were alone in the greenhouse blooming in her face.

“Of course.”

That was all Hilda needed to hear. She’d beat the goddess herself after that. She'd do anything to survive that battle.

She’d kiss Marianne on a summer’s day.

* * *

It was a sunny afternoon in the Horsebow Moon.

Her hands trembled in hers, first holding the tips of her fingers, then intertwining them, her pink eyes never leaving those linked hands. The white, clean skin from Marianne's hands against hers, crossed by scars and calluses that gave away how the war had shaped her to its image. Her throat was closed, gripped by the fathomless strength of her feelings, the irrefutable significance of the moment, seconds pregnant with meaning.

The undeniable truth of how the step they were about to take would irrevocably change their relationship in just seconds.

There was no rush, no hurry, she could savor each moment, knowing how beautiful what they already had was. How wonderful would be what was to come.

And knowing that the only way to enjoy it fully was to seize every second.

Hilda ran her thumbs over the back of those hands made to heal and, once, believed to curse. How wrong they were. How wrong was Marianne to think so lowly about herself.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, her lungs tingling and bursting with every breath.

Marianne tugged her close by their linked hands, now she couldn't just imagine the warmth of her body, the sweet scent from her braided hair, she could sense it, feel it filling the air and intoxicating her already elevated mind. Her exhilarated senses.

Hilda Valentine Goneril was no coward and she wasn't patient, either, but somehow the moment stretched, lengthening and flowing with no rush, Hilda realized she had no haste. She knew that Marianne was hers.

As Hilda was Marianne's.

And as the realization settled into knowledge, it brought her the patience she had lacked for most of her life.

She leaned forward, burying her face in Marianne's neck, letting go of her hands to hold her tight, her eyes sliding shut as she lost herself. The air crisp, the time completely stopped just for them, the flow of the world gentle and merciful for once. Marianne breathed in deep, taking in the woman in her arms, holding her tight and yet carefully.

To Hilda, it seemed like they were dancing to the silence that disguised the old never-ending song that was played just for them.

It was Marianne who broke the spell, guiding her chin up. Her eyes made their way up, from Marianne's chest to her neck playing games with the light, to her chin looking for her, her part-lips, her eyes something hazel, something gray, sliding shut.

And Hilda saw no more as she closed hers in the same manner and found what she had longed for years.

Even in her mind, there was just silence, the runaway horses that used to gallop through as ideas never landing, never-ending, as thoughts fully formed and never tamed, stopped.

It was just Marianne, kissing her, outside in the fields of Garreg Mach on a summer day.

What else could matter?

* * *

"You like it?"

"Of course, it's lovely and… it's yours."

She let her fingers rest in the medallion she had crafted for Marianne, the lazy smile that captured her lips was marked by happiness. The coat that she had sloppily thrown over her naked shoulders was too big for her, engraved with the Edmund's family blazon.

Outside winter had settled, harsh and windy that north in the Alliance, the snow heavy on the window of their room.

Hilda kissed her temple, her cheek, her ear, her neck. Marianne leaned into each touch, smiling as she took the hand that was still over her medallion, in her chest, her shirt unbuttoned.

The world they now conquered together.

Only the wind, blowing like a soft breeze or a brave gust, could kiss a mountain flower.

Only Hilda could kiss Marianne out there, in the open, in each other's arms, where they both belonged.


End file.
